Bingo Drabble  Row2
by AnnieVH
Summary: Several drabbles.


**Title: **Drabbles  
><strong>Author: <strong>AnnieVH  
><strong>PairingCharacters: **in order, Moriarty, Sherlock/Irene, Sherlock and Mummy, everybody (art), none, Sherlock&John&Yard, Sherlock&Mycroft, Sherlock&Victor, Sherlock  
><strong>RatingCategory: **overall, PG.  
><strong>Prompt: <strong>Row2 from my Drabble Bingo Card at Team Watson, **thegameison_sh**  
><strong>Spoilers: <strong>none  
><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>don't own, just burrow  
><strong>NotesWarnings: **warnings before each drabble - though there really isn't much.

UNEVEN  
>one sentence<br>Moriarty smiled, "No, I wouldn't call myself crazy; I rather think of my chain of thought as... uneven."

LIBRETTO  
>drabble<br>"I told you you wouldn't say no."  
>"What are you doing here?"<br>"Making sure you got my invitation."  
>"As you can see, I did."<br>"I see you accepted it."  
>"I have deep respect for music. La Bohème is irrefusable, as you well know, Ms. Adler."<br>"Yes, I'm in it."  
>"I know. I'm watching."<br>"From a pretty good seat."  
>"Yes."<br>"Now, don't say it like that. That's a good date we're having."  
>"I'm sitting in a balcony by myself while you perform on stage. I'm quite sure that's not how dating goes."<br>"Would've come for dinner and movie?"  
>"Ugh. Boring."<br>"Precisely."

SIN  
>drabble<br>When Mother was about to call the police, Priest Charles knocked on the door, bringing little Sherlock home but keeping him at arm's length on a hostile grasp. Mother took his little boy in her arms. "Oh, Priest, thank you so much! I was so worried!"  
>Priest Charles wasn't smiling. In fact, she couldn't remember a moment where the kind man had ever looked so severe. "Is there something wrong, Priest?"<br>"Mrs. Holmes. Do consider finding him an exorcist!" He snapped, and walked away.  
>Mrs. Holmes looked at her son, her worries turning into exasperation, "What did you do now?"<p>

ELATION  
>stick art<br>/r/2ztim4o/7

GLIMMER  
>someone else<p>

FELICITY  
>drabble<br>Sally's response to whatever he says is a casual, "Freak." She's trying to get to him, but Sherlock really doesn't care for such simplicity and is on the verge of asking her "Use your imagination, you're so boring!". Lestrade's reached a point where the magic trick has lost its charm and would just like to see the rabbit out of the hat already and go grab some lunch, thank you very much. John still thinks the simplest things are just "Brilliant!", and though it's overreaction Sherlock does not fight his logic. The amazement in John's eyes make him quite happy.

FINAL  
>drabble<br>It ends with a lie, spat out from Sherlock's lips with cruelty, the kind that can only come from cocaine, and it hits Mycroft hard. I don't need you and I never did. It stings. Mycroft knows it's the drug talking, but he insists back that no, dear brother, in fact, you do, and then shouts out examples, the most humilliating he can find in his head at such short notice, and suddenly they're both spilling words they can't take back anymore. Words to harm and destroy and regret when all is said and done. They serve their purpose well.

DECADE  
>triple drabble<br>Ten years is too long to hold a grudge, but just looking at the man who used to be his friend is enough to make hot anger and humiliation boil in Victor Trevor's stomach.  
>Sherlock shrugs in an apologetic way, though shrugs weren't made for saying I'm sorry, and adds, "I may have been an idiot."<br>Victor stares back, unmoved by that statement. "You cracked the case."  
>"I meant when we were in college." Sherlock explains. Victor understands, but still looks as hurt as when murder brought them together, just a week before. "I screamed mean and hurtful things-"<br>"John put you up to this." When Sherlock looks surprise, Victor smirks. "Well, my powers of deduction have improved."  
>"He suggested we should talk, but I wanted to come. You were still upset over the things I said a few years ago."<br>"I'm not upset." Victor says with simplicity. "Not anymore. I'm hurt and I don't like you very much, but you're not my problem anymore."  
>"I believe I became your problem when you told my roommate he's nothing but a pet to me and that he should leave before I destroyed him."<br>"After what you did to me, sounds like solid advice."  
>Sherlock tries the obvious answer. "I'm sorry."<br>"You're not." Victor states this like he had taken a long time to come to terms with that fact. "It's fine, I don't need you to be."  
>"Victor, those things I said, it was the cocaine."<br>"No, it wasn't. You thought I was stupid long before that. You thought I was a lot of things, didn't you? How is John different?"  
>Sherlock couldn't give an answer to that. Victor turned his back on him and walked back inside, saying "That's just who you are, Sherlock. Maybe you're meant to be alone."<p>

ENCLOSED  
>drabble<br>Because rehab is too easy to drop out of Mycroft took him to a psychiatric hospital. Sherlock was aware that he had reached a breaking point and went in without complaining. After he was clean and able to think straight he still lingered there and allowed the months to come an go, taking pills and doing the pointless therapy that seemed to work for everybody else but made his body go numb and the buzz in his head go quiet. Outside, everything that seemed stimulating was bound to bore him sooner or later. Inside, he didn't have to feel anything.


End file.
